The Price of Betrayal

Chapter 8

The Price of Betrayal

The moment my voice rang through the room, silence fell like a heavy curtain. I felt all eyes on me, and the tension in the air was suffocating.

“Dad,” I repeated, my voice firmer now, “Give me to who?”

“Baby, it’s nothing for you to worry about,” my father tried to soothe me, but his words felt hollow.

“Oh, James, stop lying to her and tell her about your meeting with the Blackwoods,” Victoria’s voice cut through the tension, laced with anger.

“Dad…” I looked at him, heart racing, “You met with the Blackwoods again? I thought you had paid them off.”

“Pay them?” Victoria laughed bitterly. “With what money? He’s completely broke.”

“Dad, answer me!” I shouted, my frustration boiling over into fear. My heart pounded in my chest, each beat louder than the last.

My father sighed, looking defeated. “They requested a meeting… and I had no choice but to go.”

---

Two days ago…

James sat alone at home, aimlessly scrolling through his phone, when a message appeared from the Blackwoods: *Come to the clubhouse by 9 PM.* His stomach sank, his hands trembling. He knew why they were calling him. The debt was still unpaid, and time had run out.

By 9 PM, James was standing outside the Blackwood clubhouse, steeling himself for whatever awaited him inside. He promised himself that if he could make it through this, he would give up gambling for good.

Once inside, he was escorted to a secluded, dimly lit VIP section. The room was shadowed, lit only by a single overhead light, and smelled of whiskey and cigar smoke. Sitting behind a mahogany desk was Don Vito Blackwood, the fearsome head of the Blackwood Mafia.

“Welcome,” Don Vito rasped, his voice cold and unwelcoming. “I assume you’ve brought my money?”

“Please,” James stammered, his voice betraying his desperation. “I don’t have it yet, but I just need a few more days. I’m doing everything I can—”

“You know my patience is limited, James,” Don Vito interrupted. “But for you, I’ve made an exception because we go back. But time is up.”

James swallowed hard, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. “Just a little more time… I’ll have it.”

“Your case is no longer in my hands,” Don Vito said sharply. He motioned toward the back of the room. “It’s in *his*.”

James turned to look at the figure emerging from the shadows. As the figure stepped into the light, James’s breath caught in his throat. He expected an older, ruthless-looking man, but what he saw was worse unexpectedly young and terrifyingly composed. Piercing blue eyes bore into him, framed by dark, sleek hair that contrasted with his pale skin. His presence was calm but deadly, a predator in disguise.

“I know you have three daughters,” the young man said, his deep voice reverberating throughout the room. “One of them will serve as my handmaiden for ten years. That’s how you will pay your debt.”

“No,” James gasped, his heart dropping into his stomach. “Please, not my daughters. There has to be another way.”

“There is,” the young man said, his voice icy. “But the other way is death your death. So choose: your life, or ten years of service from one of your daughters.”

James felt his entire world crash around him. His breath quickened, and he felt the weight of the impossible choice pressing down on him.

“You have two weeks,” the young man continued, his expression devoid of sympathy. “Deliver her to the mansion, or your life and your daughters’ will be forfeit. You’re dismissed.”

The guards pulled James out of the room, his legs weak beneath him. He staggered out of the clubhouse, feeling like his world was crumbling beneath him.

“What have I done?” he whispered to himself, driving home in a daze, his mind plagued with thoughts of how he would break this to his family.

---

**Present Day…**

“So… one of us has to go,” I repeated slowly, struggling to process what my father had just confessed.

“Yes,” my father whispered, his voice heavy with regret. “But if you won’t, I’ll go in your place.”

“You’re being delusional,” Victoria snapped, glaring at him. “We should just run. Get out of here before it’s too late.”

“Dad, I…” My voice trailed off as I felt my strength fading. “I just need to be alone right now. This is too much. I’ve had a bad enough day already. I can’t deal with this.”

I retreated to my room, closing the door behind me, leaning my back against it as tears filled my eyes. A tidal wave of emotions crashed over me fear, anger, and sadness. I had known for years that Dad’s gambling would come back to haunt us, but I never imagined it would be this devastating.

Desperate to escape my thoughts, I put on some Ariana Grande and grabbed my sketchpad. Drawing had always been my solace, and right now, I needed it more than ever. I began sketching the mysterious man who had been haunting my thoughts the one I had seen only briefly, yet who had left such a deep impression. His piercing blue eyes and dark hair came to life on the paper, and with each stroke, I felt myself falling deeper into his image.

Was this obsession healthy? Probably not. But at least it kept my mind off the nightmare unfolding around me.

After I finished drawing, I forced myself to prepare for bed. I couldn’t shake the turmoil swirling in my mind Peter, the mysterious man from the park, my father’s horrifying predicament, and the heavy decision looming over me. But somehow, despite the weight of it all, I found a small measure of peace. For the first time in days, I drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.

---

Elsewhere in the City…

Peter paced his apartment, his frustration building with every step. Rory had rejected him, and he regretted leaving Tiffany more than ever. “I’ll go back to her tomorrow,” he muttered to himself. “I’ll ask for her forgiveness. She’ll take me back I’m sure of it.”

Meanwhile, Alex sat alone, his mind consumed with thoughts of Aurora. His feelings for her had grown too strong to keep bottled up any longer. “I have to tell her,” he whispered, his voice filled with determination. “I’ll tell her how I feel before it’s too late. Whatever happens, happens.”

---

In a Dark Corner of the City…

The mysterious man Aurora’s admirer stood in his darkened room, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. He had never anticipated being rejected not by her. He had prepared everything, softened his approach, played his cards perfectly, and still, she had refused him.

His hands balled into fists, his blue eyes darkening with fury. “Who does she think she is?” he snarled, his voice echoing off the walls as he smashed a glass to the floor.

“Aurora,” he growled, “you’ve touched the tail of a lion. And now, you’ll regret it.”

His lips curled into a dangerous smile. “From now on… watch your back, girl. You’ll soon learn why they call me the White Lion.”

*******

As Aurora slept, the night outside her window grew still. But in the shadows, a figure watched her, his brown eyes gleaming with intent. His breath fogged up the glass as he whispered, “You thought you could reject me and go Scot free? You’re wrong. Very wrong.”

He disappeared into the night, leaving behind a silent promise of what was to come. The White Lion was on the hunt, and Aurora would soon find herself at the heart of his deadly game.